by Yvona Fast

Bare trees groan in the wind.
Surrounded by autumn woods,
rooted in this place.
Calm water mirrors sky, clouds, white birch, dogs, and me.
I contemplate the beauty of a gray November day.
 
Silence surrounds, stillness abounds.
Plop! Waves spread out from the beaver’s tail.
I envision God’s creative splendor, and pray
my countenance would reflect light
to a dark, gray, troubled world.

Yvona Fast’s poems have appeared in many disparate literary journals and anthologies in the last dozen years. Yvona immigrated to the US when she was 9. When not writing or cooking, she can be found outdoors in all seasons. Yvona’s three poetry chapbooks can be found at http://www.yvonafast.com/poetry.html.

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